31 January 2020  |  Theme: Body  |  6-Minute Read |  Listen

It was a gorgeous day, and my friend Robyn and I were taking a brisk walk together as we chatted about this and that. She and I sing in a women’s ensemble together, so naturally, our conversation turned to music. At some point, I began to describe to her how I often experience music.

At a symphony or musical concert, I like to close my eyes and relax my mind, entering into a meditative state that’s similar to the transitional first phase of sleep—the stage just before hypnic myoclonia, when the muscles jerk and there’s a falling sensation. In this state, I am fully present with the music and often, I see vivid images emerging. I don’t force the images or try to make sense of them—they simply appear and reflect the energy of the music I am hearing. Vaughan Williams evokes beautiful windswept grasses, while Eric Whitacre conjures up red, sinewy horses galloping through fiery storms.

As I described this experience, Robyn asked, “Is it synesthesia?” It isn’t, but I can see why she’d ask. Synesthesia is a crossing-over in the mind from one sense to another; a person with synesthesia may hear colors or smell certain shapes. But my visions when I listen to music are more like interpretations in visual forms—my mind and body react to sound by producing dream-like scenes that enhance the experience.

That conversation led to my describing for her the way I feel some art—especially Monet. When I stand in front of a large Monet canvas, I can sometimes feel the energy of the brush strokes. At times, the strokes tiptoe carefully and methodically, and at other times, they sweep across the canvas, carefree and fun—I can almost hear the artist laughing in delight as he daubs on bright yellows and warm oranges. More than once, I have found myself swaying and dancing to the rhythm of the painting. I just can’t help myself.

She responded, “You are certainly in touch with your body.”

I was taken aback at first, because I’ve spent most of my life feeling anything but “in touch” with my body. I shared some of that part of my journey in “Body of Evidence” earlier this month—how my mind distanced itself from my body so that “I” dwelt nearly entirely in Mind. But as I rolled the idea around, I realized that it isn’t my mind responding to the music or art—it’s my body. I feel a resonance, a connectedness. It’s similar to the way I felt when I was a child standing on the curb as a parade passed by. When the bass drums were struck, I could feel it vibrating in my chest, and for a moment, the drum and I were one.

I knew this as a child, but I lost touch with experiencing the world in this way. I forgot the feeling of my torso pulsating with the drums.

Perhaps my way of feeling art and music are my adult body reminding me of the drumbeat. The symphony or the Impressionist moves me at the cellular level, not because my mind sees and hears and thinks, “Oh, that’s lovely,” but because the music and the art take me in, flow through me, and excite my very cells to dance.

Doing my inner work has been a process of re-learning how to allow my body to dance. It has been an unfettering of the shackles Mind had placed on Body, forcing it to sit quietly on the sidelines as Mind led the band. Notice that I didn’t say, “learning how to dance.” My body already knows how to move and dance in this life—but my mind had to re-learn how to get out of the way.

Our bodies are unimaginably wise.

As I began this inner journey, a friend told me that I had incredible creative potential, but it was all locked up inside my body. I had no idea what she meant, or how to access it. Everything, really, about my body was a mystery. Nevertheless, I embarked upon my journey into the unknown and began to discover the wisdom of my body.

I use the word “discover” as if I am the first explorer into uncharted territory, but I must interject that I am far from being a pioneer. Many volumes have been written about it: Dr. John Sarno’s The Mindbody Prescription: Healing the Body, Healing the Pain, Besser van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, and Christine Valters Paintner’s The Wisdom of the Body: A Contemplative Journey to Wholeness for Women, just to scratch the surface. It’s simultaneously a vast, universal subject and a deeply individualized and personal one. The wisdom within our bodies is something each must discover for ourselves.

As I have read, researched, and studied Body this month, I have come to realize that I can’t possibly do the topic of Body justice in only 31 days. Having a positive relationship with our bodies and learning to hear their wisdom is the Key. To. Everything. I can’t possibly describe my own process in a 1,000-word article or in an hour-long podcast. As I reflected on this with my Project Manager, she said, “Maybe the theme of Body needs to be the overarching theme for this entire year.” Her words resonated with me, and even as my mind was busily trying to envision precisely what that would look like, my body said, “Yep.” As I shifted my awareness to feel my heart quicken slightly and my skin tingle in excitement, I knew that Carmen was right.

And so, Dear Reader, this is what needs to happen: this entire year will be the Year of the Body. I’ll still explore different themes each month, but I’ll also look at concepts like Joy, Letting Go, and Money through the lens of the Body. What does Joy feel like in the body? What physical sensations do we experience when Letting Go? How does our relationship with Money manifest in the body?

I look forward to delving into all these topics this year and bringing you even more ways to be more Connected, Inspired, and Empowered. I’m currently working to create a series of seminars on Body and hope to launch the first one in the spring. More information about the seminar series will be available here on my website, and I will also post it on my Facebook page.

Until next time,